how i sold my debut novel in a week
my advice for going on submission
This post is “tOo lOng FoR eMaIL” so please read it on your appy-app
I felt embarrassed by the idea of writing a post like this, vomiting my good fortune all over the place.1 The aggressive headline, a cheap attention grab. The ‘I can do it, you can too’ of it all. My white-stocking Southern grandma is spinning in her grave. But then I thought: no! *slams fist on table.* Why does it have to feel slithery? I had a special experience, why hoard what I learned from it? Because it’s distasteful, coarse, gauche? Good thing I’m a triple threat. Good thing I don’t know wtf gauche means.
Sharing my observations, picking over publicly this rare, bizarre luck in light of rumblings that selling a debut novel is more difficult than ever, felt like a kind of twisted service to other writers. I can’t tell you exactly why my book sold fast. But I do have a solid sense of what went right to help it happen.
What I’ll say is this: I don’t think selling a novel is the total mystery some might have you believe.
Let’s start with the hard stuff.
PRIVILEGE & REALITY:
“A piece published in Modern Love absolutely helped.”
To say my job as a producer for a national NPR show played no role in grabbing editors’ attention, I think, would be naïve. NPR does not hold the same sway in the book world it once did—but sway it does holds.
(This feels like a good time to note that Congress has voted to rescind $1.1 billion dollars in funding for public media. This will cripple small local and rural stations. You can donate to your local NPR station here, and your PBS affiliate here. It makes a difference, trust me.)
In this same vein, having a piece published in Modern Love absolutely helped. This piece reached a lot of people (don’t ask me how many; the NYTs won’t tell me for some weird reason!!!) and the topic was directly tied to the novel’s subject matter. I know this made a difference with almost total certainty because one interested editor mentioned having read the essay when it came out. It showed that there was an established audience, if not for the book, than for the themes the book explores.
I’ve also been getting an MFA in Creative Writing for like five years or something, though I don’t even know if I’m enrolled anymore (I promise I’m an actual adult). This might’ve helped my submission but I don’t think it made more of a difference than NPR and Modern Love.
Here’s the reality: many editors read submissions during their nights and weekends. Imagine doing day-job work on your nights and weekends. You’d probably be like, fuck this, I want to be drunk! That is what writers are up against—everything else that might clamor for an editor’s attention. You are trying to make it not feel like work.
Humor is how I confronted this problem. Obviously, I didn’t write a funny book solely to entice editors. But I did think, okay, when I have other things yanking at my time, what makes me present? Laughter. Humor disarms people. You can forgive an imperfect book if it had you clutching your sides. I’m not saying my novel made every editor laugh, but I know my editor (hi Anne!! I’m OBSESSED with you <3) told me she laughed out loud at the first line in my first chapter.
As a writer, it serves you to try to identify with the editors reading your work. Truly, they are humans not just gatekeepers. Maybe this was easier for me since some people view me as a gatekeeper when I know I’m just a person who farts in their sleep like everyone else.
Consider your special talents, skills, as a writer and ask yourself, when you’re bone-tired, exhausted, distracted, what keeps you inside a story?
PITCH & THE MARKET:
“Make them sit up for your novel.”
At any given stressful time, I have about 20 Post-IT notes on my wall. While I was in the thick of revising my novel, one of those notes said, “Respect the reader’s time.” Another note: “Make these mfs sit up for your novel.” Different reminders, but the sentiment is the same.
No one can sit up for your novel if they don’t even crack it open. The pitch is the key. It’s not just what your book is about, it’s why anyone cares what it’s about.
When you’re on submission to editors, you’re that much closer to going to market. So, in my opinion, that pitch is even more about saleability than your pitch to agents. Understanding what an editor does (beyond editing, which is, uh, a lot) and how publishing operates will help you understand what a pitch is really for. It’s the few lines that make the editor want to stop everything and read your book. But it’s also for when THEY need to go pitch your book to their team. These few lines are not just about earning that specific editor’s interest; it’s a kind of argument for why a house should pay for your work, why your story is a good investment.
My agent and I collaborated closely on the pitch. Here’s the short one we used:
A twenty-something woman in an open relationship with her boyfriend can fall in love with anyone she wants—except for her boyfriend’s best friend and his new girlfriend. She falls for them anyway, with deliciously disastrous results.
Tension! Drama! Stakes! We’re getting messy! We’re getting trashy! It’s polyamory, but we’re doing it all wrong!!! And we telegraphed this in two lines. I also wrote an author’s note for submission explaining how this novel was different from others on the market involving nonmonogamy (Read: not about a white married couple in New York or LA, but young Black Gen-Z characters in the nation's capital).
One thing being a radio producer has helped me with is writing clear, concise copy. For every show I produce, I have to write a 20 second promo which airs ahead of the conversation. My old boss always said, “A promo is a promo, not a promise.” What this means is, your goal is not to convey every nuance, every detail, in your pitch. Your job is to get someone to stick around for the whole thing, to reach nuance through reading. As some who attends editorial meetings for work, I also understand what it looks like to defend an idea to your team. You’re trying to make it as easy as possible for an editor to defend your book.
“Being a trendsetter is way more interesting.”
I would never recommend that a writer try to “game” the market or chase trends. If you’re writing a literary novel, by the time you finish it in four, five, ten years times, that trend is probably going to be gone and you’re going to be standing there with your pants around you ankles, upset. Being a trendsetter is way more interesting anyway.
But there are market patterns you can observe. A quiet, experimental literary story collection by an unknown writer is likely going to present a more difficult sale than an upmarket novel with a big hook and knockout prose in a category that’s performing really well. This absolutely does not mean you should not write the former—we do not want a monolithic literary landscape, we want a diverse, dynamic one, and indie presses can be incredible sites for this kind of work and as worthy as any Big 5. On the other end of the spectrum, a commercial novel with a premise that’s been done a billion times may be a harder to sell than one that puts a fresh, compelling twist on an old story but keeps that commercial edge. You can be mindful of these patterns without pandering to them.
I just so happen to be a literary writer who leans commercial. In other words, my agent and I knew the book had upmarket potential. Upmarket is, simply put, a blend of commercial and literary elements: literary writing and execution with more plot or a higher concept than the average litfic novel. These are the books typically chosen by celebrity book clubs but, like SUCH A FUN AGE or THE VANISHING HALF, also have awards potential.
I also write love stories! My stuff is very romance-coded! Love stories are and will likely always be popular in some form. This may mean darker themes one year, romcoms another, dragons, monsters the next, but I don’t see the demand for love stories broadly going anywhere anytime soon. I think the fact that my novel could potentially tap into this readership, crossover between more flexible romance readers and more genre-friendly literary readers was a strength on submission (See: the success of NORMAL PEOPLE).
PARTNERSHIP & PROACTIVENESS:
“Know what’s going on with your shit.”
I have old ass, Black ass parents who, growing up, were always trying to TEacH mE sOmEthiNg. Whenever I looked lost in public, my dad would yell, “Don’t be out here looking like you don’t know where you are!” À propos nothing, my mom would say, “You need to know what’s happening with your finances ALWAYS. Don’t ever let a man handle your money.”
What they were saying was, you cannot afford to be a passive person in life. Be alert. Pay attention. This is how you make it.
I could not ask for a better submission process, not simply because it was short, but because of the way my agent (hi, Margaret!!!) invited me into the process, the way we worked together to put together a submission package we could both stand behind with complete confidence.
You cannot have complete confidence in something you have not seen.
The level of involvement any one writer has in the submission process seems to vary wildly. For example, I sent my agent over a dozen editor names—names I found online and through Publisher’s Marketplace. Together, we deliberated the submission list, comps, strategy. I saw, touched, approved every part of the package. But I also did extensive research on my own long before submission so, (I hope!) I wasn’t just in there touching stuff, but acted as an additive force.
I’ve heard of other writers who don’t know who their manuscript is being sent to. Sometimes an agent will withhold editors’ names to prevent clients from reaching out on their own, only sharing the publishing imprint.2 By most accounts, this approach isn’t cause for alarm. How you work with your agent leading up to and being on submission is a personal matter unique to your needs, your agency’s guidelines, and your dynamic with your agent. But I’m about to say something with all the bravado of a 29 year old who’s done this exactly once: I think you need to know what’s going on with your shit.
I’m sorry!!!!! I just—I think you need to know wtf is happening. This includes who your book is being sent to and why. If something goes wrong, it may not be your fault, but I promise you, love, it will be your problem.
Before you assure me you totally trust your agent I’m here to say I trust mine too!!! That didn’t stop me from doing my own research and asking pointed questions. Just like wanting to be involved in your household’s finances doesn’t mean you don’t trust your partner. Because when the IRS comes knocking, what are you gonna say, babe? I didn’t know? He was handling everything?3
This is not me suggesting at all that you try to do your agent’s job. I deferred to mine whenever I knew a matter was outside of my wheelhouse. Ideally, you both have valuable insights to offer each other. The reason I recommend being hands on during this part of the process is because you get one chance: Once you send your manuscript to an editor at an imprint, typically, you cannot send it to a different editor at that imprint. This means that imprint is out. So, it is imperative that your project goes to the right people. It doesn’t matter how strong your Y.A horror is if that editor has recently stopped buying Y.A.
Of course, keeping up with these professional changes is what makes an agent a good one!!! My agent was outstanding with this. But I wanted to be in a position that if, if, things turned out differently, I knew with every fiber of my being that we did all the right things. There weren’t any avoidable slip ups or oversights. I didn’t want to wonder if x editor might’ve made more sense. My agent’s list was perfection, but say there had been several editors on there that didn’t seem quite right. There’s zero harm in asking your agent, why did you choose them? Chances are your agent knows something you don’t. Or maybe they soft pitched them and, even though their recent deals don’t necessarily align with your project, they’re looking to update their list. But you cannot have these conversations if you’re uninformed. Most publishing houses have their mastheads on their website. Publisher’s Marketplace is like $25 a month. If you don’t want to be a recurring subscriber, just pay for it once and pour through an editor’s recent deals.
The point here is less about suggesting a dozen editors to your agent. It’s about how you see your role as a writer hoping to have a career. You are no longer an artist working alone in the dark, a steward of the slippery creative process. You are, if things go your away, a businessperson. This new role doesn’t have to and shouldn’t soil your artistic identity! Or replace your commitment to the work. But don’t be a passenger looking out the car window of your career and expect shit to just happen for you. Be alert. Pay attention. This is how you make it.
TIMING & INTUITION:
“I feel like it’s time.”
Do you know that weird phenomenon when you’re fast asleep and, suddenly, you jump up at like 5 in the morning? This is what it felt like when I knew it was time to go on submission.
I’d been revising the novel since 2021. In July 2024, I sent this email to my agent:
“I'm sure you see this all the time with other authors, but I feel like, spiritually, I have maybe one more intense round of revisions in me for this project (with you, not an editor!), though I know you know the market much better and where the bar is for debut projects right now, and I understand it's very high. Still, I'd love to talk about a submission timeline, even if it's shiftable. I'm really feeling like I need a finish line I can see…In an ideal world, I'd want to go out with this before the November election.
The urgency I felt in my body was much stronger than I let on in this (professional, hello!) email. I just knew it was time though. We had to go out then. The novel contained a 2024 election thread and I felt strongly we should not wait to see who won. Nonmonogamy was also having a strange moment that year but all the books in the news were still about white married people who stumbled into ENM.4 Where were the poly people? The women initiating opening their relationships? The Black people? I saw a hole in the landscape.
Like the market, timing is not something you can dictate. One strange thing that happened around the time of my submission was that editors were moving to new imprints (not unusual), but they were moving in my favor. We could now go to this imprint because that editor we liked so much moved there, we didn’t have to choose between them and their old colleague.
You can’t know when or how things are going to happen but you can try to tune in—what’s happening in the world? Am I seeing a bunch of books like mine being sold? On shelves? Are there T.V shows coming out that overlap with my work? What’s in the news right now? What am I hearing from other writers? What am I reading online? What is going on in the zeitgeist? What is going on?
Intuition doesn’t rise from nowhere, it starts with information gathering, a knowledge that becomes so embedded it speaks to you as a feeling.
What I’m trying to say about timing is, you might not be able to get on the train you want when you want. But you need to be on the platform, watching the timetable. You need to be ready to get on when it pulls into the station.
LUCK & HARD WORK:
“If anyone’s going to do it, Haili’s gonna do it.”
My mom loves to tell the story about how she didn’t think I was going to make it. By ‘make it’ I mean get a book deal, not in my twenties.
“It’s not that I didn’t believe in you,” she said. “I didn’t believe in the system, that you could break through. But I told my girl friend, if anyone’s going to do it, Haili’s gonna do it.”
My situation involves a herculean amount of luck and privilege: that my future agent read my Modern Love essay and signed me based on that AND ended up wanting to represent my novel, which was not completed when we started working together. That my editor moved to Scribner when she did and was looking to build a list there. I mean, I’m lucky.
But I am not ending this post without giving myself my fucking flowers. Every Saturday and Sunday morning for four years, I got my ass up and worked on this novel. I took dozens of workshops. I heard my agent’s feedback, I revised until I was bleary-eyed, I listened to writers who knew more than me. I ate my pride. I stood my ground. I was a bull about it.
My sense is this is what it takes right now for a debut novel to sell, at least for literary fiction, at least if you’re a normal, non-celebrity person. I don’t think I’ve heard of any book selling that went through zero revisions. It’s too competitive, it’s too easy to say no, there’s always another book coming up behind yours. The writer has to be willing to tear the book apart and put it back together for months (or in my case, years). Don’t mistake impatience for intuition.
Writing a good book is the most important ingredient. I did not go on submission feeling mixed up. I went on submission feeling sure. And I don’t recommended going on submission with a book you think, even subconsciously, isn’t good enough.
I wrote about this feral self-belief on my friend Kat’s Substack earlier this year:
I decided that no matter what happened on submission, that book was going to be out in the world. Nobody was writing what I was writing in it, that made it necessary to me. If I had to tattoo it on my skin and walk around my city naked, I was going to get it out there. I believed in it that much, and that belief made everything else bearable because I didn’t have to wait for an answer; I answered myself.5
There was no “dying on submission” for me because other people don’t have the authority to kill my art with their nos. My project dies because I’m done with it.6
This is not to say I wouldn’t have been gutted clean had my book not sold. I would’ve been. This is to say I knew the writer I was going into the submission process. That, along with the work, is what you can control.
EPILOGUE:
There’s a breathlessness about books that get snapped up on submission. A ‘six-figure deal’ has a ring to it that we all know the sound of. We love stories about writers who finished their books in six weeks, who sold them in 12-way auctions. Though none of these stories reflect the reality for most writers. And they were not the ones I turned to while bracing myself for submission.
I wolfed down instead the stories of Haley Jakobson getting rejected by over 40 editors. Carmen Maria Machado receiving close to 30 nos for Her Body & Other Parties. Coco Mellors selling her debut after a revise and resubmit. Submission is only the start. It is not the end. Looking at where these authors landed, you’d never know that this is where they began.
So: I didn’t want to leave you with my whirlwind romance tale. Below are the slow burns, the hard but abiding marriages, the unrequited loves. Stories about being a writer trying to offer your work to the world that are just as worth telling.
I misspelled ‘embarrassed’ four times so maybe I shouldn’t have gotten a book deal
don’t do this lol it’s bad
u going 2 jail
This is reductive but you know what I’m saying
yes I’m quoting myself AND
but sometimes it does, babes lol sometimes you need to go back and revise some more more that’s a different conversation.
Oh yeah, this is so timely!!! Thanks for this post! I love how real and raw your style is. I've been working on my MS for eight years, and it's finally out on sub with 32 editors reading the full. The waiting is almost harder than the writing!
“You are no longer an artist working alone in the dark . . . You are, if things go your away, a businessperson.”
Thinking of my novel writing as a business is a mental shift that I wish I made way earlier in my writing life. Love all the actionable advice in here. I’ve been working on the submission packet for my second novel, and this post gave me some clarity on how to revise my pitch. Thanks for this! So, so excited for your book!